


Hospitality

by giantessmess



Category: The Devil Wears Prada (2006)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Greek Mythology, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-10
Updated: 2018-03-10
Packaged: 2019-03-29 07:55:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,723
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13922730
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/giantessmess/pseuds/giantessmess
Summary: Every visitor who reached the island perished, simply by staring into Miranda's eyes. Until a blind girl stumbled to her door. Medusa AU, to the tune ofthis popular tumblr post.





	Hospitality

A sharp clattering sound woke her. Miranda stiffened, brushing the tendrils of snakes out of her eyes. The noise was unwelcome. It was always unwelcome, no matter how much perverse pleasure she got out of the encounters.

It had been a few decades since an unwitting hero had come in, sword drawn, charging at her with his wild eyes. She could count them all, of course. They littered her courtyard. Mouths open, arms and fists and weapons in various gestures of attack. She sometimes took a stroll to appreciate it, to chart her collection of male admirers with a finger trailing over cool stone. The older statues were starting to grey with time, covered as they were with small vines and moss. The newer were a more polished white stone, their eyes just as blank but a certain shock remaining. Like they still couldn’t believe she had killed them.

She wasn’t in the mood this time. She did so dislike these men. They died so quickly. She never even had time to tell them how little she thought of them. Never had time for the true fear to wash over their features. She barely even got a word out. 

A sudden crash made her flinch, a heavy crack of rock on rock. A cry of surprise followed. Miranda rushed to her courtyard, ready to end another life. But she stuttered to a halt. A girl with long brown hair was stumbling, trying to steady her feet, rubbing a bruise on her hip. A statue had fallen. The girl seemed to hear her, looking up immediately. Miranda hated herself for staring back, an apology forming on her lips as she waited for the inevitable. But the girl continued to move. 

“I’m so sorry,” the girl let out a tremulous breath, and something in her eyes made Miranda pause. “I didn’t mean….”

She looked right past Miranda, eyes blank and unfocussed. 

_Oh._

Miranda took several steps back, suddenly afraid. She didn’t speak. She’d forgotten how to make the vowels and consonants ripple over her tongue. But the girl didn’t seem to have the sense to be afraid. She kept coming forwards.

“I know you’re there,” she said. “Please.”

Miranda cleared her throat, and her voice was uncommonly quiet when she answered.

“You broke my statue.”

The girl’s eyes widened.

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t expect…” but then she let out a sob. “Look, my ship was wrecked on the rocks bellow. I could hear their screams, but couldn't find a single person to drag with me to land. Poseidon saw fit to spare my life. I wasn’t even sure there was another soul on this island.”

“Well, there is,” Miranda said. But before she could withdraw, the girl came forward and grasped her hand. Miranda felt herself stiffen, blushing against her will. 

“Please,” the girl said. “You wouldn’t turn away a guest in need? Surely we share the same Gods.”

Oh Miranda knew the Gods. And she didn’t particularly care for their company. She knew the law this girl was calling to. Fearful mortals, helping any stranger who might be in need, just in case they stumbled onto a God who would hold them to it. Laws such as these did not apply to her. This fact was on the tip of her tongue. But the girl’s hand was warm in hers and the afternoon light made her mortal skin glow. Her eyes were bright with hope, even though she could not see the kind of creature whom she begged for hospitality. Poor girl. Miranda gripped her hand protectively and led her into the cave where she spent her days.

The girl’s nose turned up at the damp. But she didn’t complain. Miranda struggled to remember what mortals needed. Food, warmth. Drink. She found her softest blankets stuffed with goose down, and led the girl to sit. She found her few cushions and pillows, and gave her head a place to rest. She had no wine to offer, so she found a stream to dip a pitcher into, and allowed the girl to drink. Chose one of her fattest goats to slaughter, and set the meat to cook on a fire in the middle of the cave. Some of her trees bared figs and peaches, and she found some ripe fruit, placing them carefully in the girl’s hand. 

“I’m really sorry about your statue,” the girl said, her mouth full, peach juice dribbling down her chin. Miranda had to resist the urge to wipe it with her thumb.

“Oh, I have plenty more,” Miranda said. The girl screwed up her face a little at that, but didn’t press for answers. Instead, she looked intently in the direction she suspected Miranda sat.

“What is your name?” The girl’s voice had a little playfulness to it, but the question made Miranda swallow. 

“Tell me yours,” Miranda said. “And I will give you something to call me by.”

The girl laughed.

“I’m nobody. A blind farmer’s daughter, sold to a passing ship to pay off a debt.” She sighed. “My mother called me Andrea.”

The girl shrunk a little into herself as she said this. Miranda wanted to reach out, but she knew it was not wise. Andrea would run, would run so far if she had any inkling of who Miranda really was.

“You may call me Miranda.” Miranda refused to speak the name her own parents had burdened her with. But then Andrea smiled, and Miranda felt a thick surge of guilt for the lie. So she added. “That is, Miranda is what I call myself.”

“It’s pretty,” Andrea mused. Then she sighed. “Look I….I have a favor to beg.”

“Food and lodging is not enough?”

Andrea shook her head. 

“If you have any kindness, I need a sacrifice for Poseidon,” her voice became more desperate. “Please, Miranda. Surely you have a goat to spare for the mighty Sea God? You saw how I arrived here. I’m worried I’ve angered him.”

Miranda sighed. 

“Well, you may have. But he won’t likely care for any sacrifices made by the likes of me.”

“Why?”

“I’m afraid I haven’t been fully honest,” Miranda stood. The snakes of her hair curling anxiously. “But if you must know, he thinks me arrogant.”

She could see the moment the fear hit Andrea’s face. The girl shook her head and tried to stand.

“Gods, I should not be here.”

“Andrea,” Miranda took hold of her arm, gently begging her with a soft squeeze.

“Miranda, if you have angered the Gods of the sea I’ll never get safe passage across it again!” Andrea held onto her with a firm grip. The contact made Miranda feel a little lightheaded. “I’ll only get into more trouble sharing your food.” 

“It’s a little late for that,” Miranda said, wiping a smudge of juice from Andrea’s chin before she could stop herself. 

“Tell me what you did,” Andrea said. “And I’ll know if I can stay.”

“Oh honestly,” Miranda gave a flick of her wrist. “It’s merely a _squabble_.” 

Andrea shook her head, looking unconvinced.

“With Poseidon?” She dropped Miranda’s hand, backing away. “Who _are_ you?”

“Nobody of significance, I can assure you.” It had been so much easier when all of her guests perished in front of her, writhed and screamed and turned to stone. This one was a much more terrifying creature. “Andrea, I mean you no harm.”

“Tell me who you are,” Andrea’s voice grew cold. 

“My mother called me Medusa.” Miranda hurried to continue as she saw Andrea grow white with terror. “A very distant relation to Poseidon, though you wouldn’t know it from the way he treats my family.”

“By the Gods.”

“Please, Andrea.” She hated how her voice rose, hated how it sounded like she was begging this mortal for pity, when it was Andrea who should be begging her.  


But instead of running, Andrea stilled. She reached out. Miranda shook a little as Andrea felt along her shoulders, felt up into her hair, and brushed the snakes away with something like tenderness. The touch made something prickle down her spine and the snakes let out a small hiss, fork tongues tickling Andrea's skin. Andrea gasped, but she didn't pull away. Her voice seemed lower when she spoke next. 

“You really don’t behave like the legends say.”

“The legends were written by fools,” Miranda scoffed, trying not to sound as breathless as she felt. “The kind begging Poseidon for scraps of protection.”

“You protected me,” Andrea said, her voice soft. 

“I did.”

“But….” Andrea shook her head. “The Law of hospitality can’t possibly apply to you.”

Miranda pouted, her face going a little pink.

“You were just…here, I couldn’t leave you to—”

She stuttered to a stop as Andrea’s lips met hers. The kiss was soft, tentative. She gasped into it, and pulled back after a moment, staring at the girl in wonder.

“I don’t know if you’re the bravest soul I’ve met, or the most foolish.”

Andrea smiled.

“Why not both?”

* * *

When the great hero Perseus arrived on the island, he found only a courtyard filled with statues in various states of decay. And a woman. He did not see her right away, for she was as perfectly still as the stone creatures that surrounded her. Her hair was a soft gray, braided intricately, and she wore a tunic interwoven with silver thread. It took him a moment to realize that she was blind. But this didn’t stop her from noting his arrival. Something in her face was troubling to him. He was grateful not to feel the full effect of it directed at him. 

“I am here to slay the gorgon Medusa,” he ventured.

“You are too late,” she said. Her voice was low, cold like the wind itself. Perseus took a step back. He wasn't sure he hadn't just stumbled across a fickle God in disguise, or worse, one of the three Fates, intent on ending his life with a single snip.

“I don’t understand,” he said, trying not to offend.

“I already defeated her." And she seemed to smile then, as if recalling a pleasant dream. He blinked a few times. 

“Who are you?” he asked. And when she answered, he did not believe her. He was already planning his escape.

“Oh, I'm nobody,” she said.

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this by accident after someone on the Mirandy facebook group posted about it. It reminded me about the Medusa tumblr post that always made me think 'this sounds very Mirandy'. So, whoops. If I had written it less quickly it would probably be better, but I may not have written it at all.


End file.
